


Quicumque | In the Bleak Midwinter

by AlexandraMariaAnna



Category: In the Bleak Midwinter (Webcomic)
Genre: F/M, Gen, a lot of hands..., also anya needs a hug and someone to deck her brother, am i really dropping a fanfic on itbmw, i can fulfill both of these roles hire me as your hugger and brotherdecker today, one of em, shameless handholding, the brainrot got to me and i cant get it to stop, very much in love with the funky cyborg man, won't specify which one, yeah - Freeform, yeah i am
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:13:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26822713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexandraMariaAnna/pseuds/AlexandraMariaAnna
Summary: Quicumque- whosoever, whoever, whatever, everyone, whatsoever, everythingIn which Anya and Omega discover that being immortal doesn’t stop one from being touch starved.Based on the Webtoon "In The Bleak Midwinter"(Anya/Omega)
Relationships: Omega/Anya
Comments: 15
Kudos: 61





	Quicumque | In the Bleak Midwinter

**Author's Note:**

> Set sometime further down the timeline.

His hands were colder than the snow the first time she touched them. She wasn’t quite sure if it was because of the less then favorable temperature outside of the church that looked seconds from falling apart, or because that’s simply how Omega was, but Anya really felt like she would develop frostbite if she held onto him for any longer. Even though the numbness in her fingertips grew, her touch still remained as she traced the outlines of zeros on his wrist. The pattern matched hers, and she knew both of their countdowns stopped at the exact same time, so why was Omega always so distant?

Mayhaps it was the fact that they were both sneaking out of their respective war camps to meet, risking their lives; or at least that one particular life. Not like anyone knew how many of these they had left. 

“Are you done?” he asked, and his voice rumbled like a thunderstorm rolling through the sky. Anya snapped her head up and met his disgruntled gaze with her equally sour one. 

“Curt as ever.” the woman groaned and let go of Omega’s wrist. The later flexed and unflexed his fingers, going as far as to shake his hand a bit like it was damaged or misaligned on the joint.

“Is my touch really that repulsive to you that you have to, literally, shake it off yourself? That stings.”

He doesn’t grace her with an answer, his attention changing from his wrist to the shattered stained-glass window that covered most of the wall they were leaning against. It was, surprisingly enough, Omega’s idea to meet there. An abandoned church may still hold enough sentimental value to not be trespassed upon by humans, and in it’s deteriorated state it would not hold any value to the androids. It was a little haven. A place where they could be alone. 

Then again, it’s not like Anya was very into the idea of spending more than ten seconds within gunshot distance of the man next to her. He didn’t exactly give her a choice - you either come to the church, or I’ll raid your base with the first flicker of sunrise. 

Thus, Anya came as instructed.

Mostly because of her fatal curiosity though. 

It was silent within the crumbling walls, and, aside from the dull howling of wind outside, no word slipped from either of their lips. They remained in that wordless stasis for a couple more minutes, before, frustrated, Anya stood up, dusting off her dirty, second-hand pants. 

“Is this enough?” she muttered bitterly, and instantly, Omega’s eyes were back on her. “Can I go home now? Are you satisfied?”

She swore she heard Omega chuckle - then again it could have been the traitorous wind slipping through the shattered glass. 

“Home? You call that a home?” he said, and Anya’s entire body tensed up. It was almost as if he was sneering at her. “A group of murderers scurrying underground, avoiding judgment. A home. Choose one out of these two, because I can’t see both coexisting.” 

“As if you knew what a home was. Do you play house with your brothers sometimes? Where did you learn the roles from - books? Or from the so-called murderers?” she was speaking before she thought it through, and the days of suppressed venom just slipped off her tongue. Omega listened, his eyes fixed on her small stature, now towering over him as he sat, his back against the cold stone. “You know I had a twinge of hope when you told me to come here. Maybe we could have communicated, I don’t know, got to know each other, however fucked up that sounds. But no, I come here, risking being deemed a traitor and you not only refuse to talk to me, you disrespect me and my entire race!” 

She was spitballing, letting the words flow from the depths of her chest and Omega continued to listen, his hands folded in his lap. When she finally stopped to take a breath, he coughed into his fist once, snapping her back to reality.

“Do you feel better now, that you let all of that out?” 

Anya blinked once, then twice. 

“Well… Yes.” she sat back down burying her face in her hands. “As much as I hate it, it did make me feel better.”

“Good.”

  
And the silence came again, like a blanket of snow that covers the hills in early January.  
It was odd, Anya thought, the silence. Back when she was just a nurse in one of the biggest hospitals in the city (the ruins of which she could see through the shattered window behind her), there wasn’t a place between the glass and metal building where one could hide away from the bustle of the city - now she found herself craving the familiar sound.

“You’re… Stressed.” Omega paused for a moment, wondering if bringing it up was worth it. “Your heart rate is unstable. I assume things aren’t going well back at the base?”

“As if I would ever tell you. We may have a ceasefire within this church, but beyond these walls, there’s still ongoing war.” Anya sighed, her warm breath tickling her palms that were pressed tightly against her face. “You can say that’s the reason I’m stressed.” she bit the inside of her cheek. “How about you? Do you get stressed?” 

Omega looked at her, his eyebrows raised just the slightest bit. 

“I can get uncomfortable, and my system can get strained, but I don’t think I can feel stress, per se.” he said, and Anya wondered for a second why he was revealing to her such sensitive information. To make her trust him? To switch her over to their side and take her back to the android camp? He’s smart, he’s devilishly intelligent, that much she knew. And she wasn’t going to get trapped in his little scheme.

“I see. That’s unfortunate-”  
“Anya.” 

The sound of her name startled her - it was the first time he has used it. Until that time, it was human this, human that - but never ‘Anya’. 

“Can I see them? Your numbers.” Omega asked, and his voice, the ever flat rumble sounded almost- Almost human. Filled with what seemed like curiosity. Pleading. Still, Anya felt a lump rise up to her throat and her heart rate accelerate. 

“Sure.” 

She didn’t really have reasons not to oblige - after all, he let her see his the moment she arrived at the meeting place. Thus she hiked up her sleeve with her shaky hand and extended her wrist in his direction. His touch was gentle as if he was afraid she would shatter if he exerted the smallest amount of force on her skin. A twinge of winter - his artificial fingertips were like butterflies on her feverish body and she couldn’t help the shudder that escaped her tense arms when he, ever so gently, pulled her hand closer to himself.

Omega’s eyes flashed electric blue as he looked at the ever-gently glowing numbers. His lips were pressed together into a thin line as his brows furrowed, and before long he extended his own hand, placing their wrists next to each other. His skin met hers and it felt like a February morning when the sun peeks over the frosted grounds and reflects from the crystallized soil.

His hand was so big compared to hers. If they compared palms, he could completely envelop hers if he wanted. Had it been warm like a human’s hand would be, maybe she’d go for it, and tried pressing her own against. Alas, the person sitting next to her was an enemy, someone who hurt her brother, who murdered countless people; Omega was as far away from human as one could get. 

Yet, in that church, he was just a man with a robotic heart, a crestfallen expression, and hands made of ice and blizzards. Under the light seeping into the room through the stained glass window, bathed in the reds and blues of the image of an unnamed saint above them, he was just Omega.  
He was her soulmate, whether both of them liked it or not. 

And as the saint watched, cursing her with empty sockets filled up by yellow and flaking gold, Anya committed the greatest sin against humanity; she gently placed her palm against his, the cold spiking through her nerves like a drug. She waited for him to shake her off, maybe knock her out, but aside from a surprised flinch nothing came, and he remained motionless as her hand grew colder and colder. 

Then, he curled his fingers, his large fingers slipping in between hers and trapping them in a cage of ice and frostbite. Anya felt a tingle in her wrist, and a pleasant sensation shot up her body, instantly negating the frostbite. They remained in equilibrium, and had she been looking at Omega, she would have noticed the surprised expression on his face.

  
The spring came to an abrupt stop as Omega firmly, yet gently detangled his fingers from hers, placing his hand back in his lap. The pleasant tingle remained, however, a gentle buzz that enveloped her entire body and left her with a ghost of a smile. 

“You… You should leave.” Omega said, and the cold wind touched her skin again. Still, she remained warm, glowing. She hummed in agreement and stood up, not looking behind. The walk to the entrance wasn’t long, but before she could push the creaking double doors open, Omega spoke again.  
“Anya, I still don’t believe in this entire soulmates deal.” his voice was flat, sharp, to the point. And yet, there was a hint of warmth in his voice; so small that you could miss it if you didn’t listen with your mind fully there, but Anya listened and she took in every word he said like a wave that crashes onto the shore. “Still, I would like to see you again. We can talk this through, I believe.”  
“I’ll wait for your next message.”

And she was gone, like a ray of sun that breaks through tumbling clouds of a late afternoon, leaving Omega alone, bathed in the rainbow of the stained glass. He stood there for a while until he couldn’t sense her presence anymore. The evening turned into night, and he walked out onto the familiar streets, the wind that blasted against his face oddly comforting, almost warm. His wrist tingled as he shoved his hands into his pocket. 

In his thought-stricken fervor, he missed the first snowdrop sprouting next to an abandoned glove.

**Author's Note:**

> *British voice*  
> aw fuck  
> I can't believe I've done that
> 
> I'm not the proudest of this one, to be honest - I really need to write an AU where the apocalypse never happened and they can hold hands in a park or a morgue or somewhere else...


End file.
